


Bait and Switch

by Sue Corkill (mscorkill)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-26
Updated: 2012-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-06 00:58:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mscorkill/pseuds/Sue%20Corkill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam gets more than she bargained for when she makes a quick trip to the grocery store to pick up some milk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bait and Switch

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in the fanzine Revelation, Volume V, May 2007.

BAIT AND SWITCH

_“You’re the only one we can trust.”_

Ba’al snapped the cell phone shut on Charlotte’s sultry voice, tossing it on the passenger seat of the pick-up and starting up the engine, the insincere compliment ringing hollow. Stepping on the gas, he peeled out of his parking spot, not caring if he drew attention to himself or not. She knew he couldn’t be trusted any further than any of the others and it was just his bad luck to be sent to this hick town to keep an eye on their common foe. He knew he was being played by the two of them, nothing but a glorified thug, sent to spy on the very dull and boring comings and goings of SG1

The car in front of him slowed down unexpectedly and he laid on the horn, swerving around the startled driver and snarling at the other cars and drivers around him. He was sick and tired of this backwards planet; he was meant to be giving the orders, not taking them. And so far, the riches, power and glory that had been promised to all of them were nowhere to be seen. Somehow he needed to get off this pitiful excuse for a planet, leave the rest of them behind and take his rightful place in the galaxy. 

Gunning the motor at the next stoplight, he decided he’d go to the twenty-four hour gym and work off some of his aggression, but first…he spotted the brightly lit store and swerved, cut across three lanes of traffic and skidded into the parking lot of the King Sooper. 

Ignoring the prominent blue and white sign, he pulled the big truck into the handicapped parking spot right at the front door. Striding through the automatic doors, he grabbed one of the plastic baskets stacked close by and headed toward the back of the store. There was only one thing on this entire god-forsaken planet that he liked, a delicacy that he indulged in as often as he could and if anyone deserved to be indulged, it was him.

There was hardly anyone in the store and he made his way easily to the dairy aisle where he grabbed a gallon of his favorite Vitamin D enriched whole chocolate milk. Turning, he bumped into a woman who had come up behind him, the half gallon of milk she had in her hand dropping to the floor with a splat. 

“Hey!” the woman exclaimed, jumping back. “Watch where you’re going!”

“Pardon me,” he sneered, kicking the leaking container across the floor. And then he glanced at her, seeing past his annoyance and straight into the startled blue eyes of a very familiar looking blonde.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Jack O’Neill had always kept up with current events, he’d take any of the various news channels and shows over reality TV any day; the only exception being during hockey season, of course. And since moving to DC and taking over as head of Home World Security, he’d taken to having every TV in his townhouse tuned to one of the news channels. The bedroom TV was for CNN, he kept the living room TV tuned to one of the local stations or Cspan and the small kitchen TV played Fox News. 

So it was while he drank his morning coffee and poured milk onto his bowl of Wheaties, with Fox News playing quietly in the background, that he caught the words ‘Colorado Springs’. Putting the milk back in the fridge, Jack turned up the sound on the TV and watched, wondering what had happened in the Springs that merited the attention of Fox News. The perky brunette news anchor was speaking.

“The super market hostage crisis has reached hour twelve in Colorado Springs with no sign of any resolution. So far authorities are not releasing the demands made by the lone male kidnapper, who a little after five o’clock am Mountain Standard Time, released seven of the eight hostages, keeping an unidentified female as his only hostage.”

The newsroom dissolved to what looked to be a live shot of the grocery store and the news story suddenly had Jack’s total and undivided attention when he recognized the store—the King Sooper less than half a mile from Sam’s house. 

“We have just obtained this exclusive footage of the earlier release of the hostages.” The screen dissolved into a night time shot of the market, police cars and floodlights filled the parking light, highlighting the terrified faces of the people as they emerged from the front of the store before being hustled away by the waiting SWAT team and paramedics. And then the camera zoomed in on the large front window of the store and Jack’s heart leapt into his throat. 

He recognized the first figure immediately, her blonde hair mussed and her face half obscured by the large hand clamped over her mouth. But even from that distance and on the small screen, he could see the anger in her blue eyes. It took a moment and that surprised him, but maybe it was the unexpectedness of seeing a Goa’uld System Lord in a King Sooper’s, but the man holding Sam with a gun to her head was none other than Ba’al. 

Pushing down on the cold fear that filled her heart, Jack shut off the TV and finished dressing, his actions on automatic and he was out the front door just as his driver pulled up. “Change of plans,” he told the young man behind the wheel. “Take me to Langley.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hank Landry had a headache the size of Montana and it was getting bigger by the minute. He’d just spent a frustrating thirty minutes on the phone with the Colorado Springs police department only to be politely and firmly dismissed at every level. Detective Yarnell had been quite adamant; they were pleased to know the identity of the female hostage but they had everything under control and didn’t need any help from the Air Force. Hank wasn’t fooled, he knew ‘help’ was just a more polite word for interference. And thanks to national security, he wasn’t able to divulge the identity of the perpetrator. 

“So what are we going to do about it?” Mitchell lounged against the door jamb, his casual position anything but casual. Hank figured he should be thankful that he only had Mitchell to deal with; Teal’c was on Dakara and Jackson was with SG 15, visiting another world that had recently been victimized by the Ori. With any luck, they’d have this situation resolved before the rest of SG1 returned and wanted to ‘help’. 

Hank rubbed his forehead for a moment and wondered if he could get Walter to bring him some aspirin. “There’s nothing we can do right now.”

“General—” Mitchell protested.

Landry cut him off before he could get going. “I said right now. Give me some time to go through the proper channels and I’ll see what I can do.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he said firmly. “In the meantime, I want you to find out everything you can about current location of all the Ba’al’s—I want to know if this is the ‘real’ Ba’al or some clone. And I want to know what the hell he’s doing in Colorado Springs.” 

“Yes, sir,” Mitchell said and disappeared into the briefing room.

Hank looked at the red phone, he’d put off calling the president until he’d talk to the police. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the receiver.

“Sir?”

“What is it Walter?” Landry grumbled, setting the receiver back down.

Walter stood before his desk, a glass of water in one hand and with the other, set two white tablets down on the blotter. “Aspirin, sir.”

“Thanks,” Hank replied, popping the tablets in his mouth and taking a big swallow of the water. When he was finished, Walter still hovered in front of the desk. “What else?” he asked with a sigh.

“General O’Neill’s secretary just called, sir. The General will be here—”

The hallway door swung open and O’Neill stood there. “The general is here now.”

“That will be all, Walter.”

“Yes, sir…er…sirs.” Hank smiled faintly as Walter scurried out of the office, given the dark look on O’Neill’s face, he kind of wished he could do the same.

O’Neill shut the door behind him and loomed over his desk. “Just when the hell were you going to tell me my wife was being held hostage by Ba’al?”

Hank thought it was to his credit that his jaw didn’t drop down to his chest with O’Neill’s pronouncement. This certainly wasn’t the time to inquire after the details of what had, until a few seconds ago, been one of the SGC’s best kept secrets. “Now Jack,” Hank said firmly, “we just found out ourselves less than an hour ago.”

“And?”

“And unofficially we can’t take any action.”

“Well, that has just changed. As head of Home World Security I have determined that having an alien hold a member of the SGC hostage in a grocery store is a security risk and any further action will be conducted out of my office.”

Hank raised an eyebrow and O’Neill had the grace to add, “Well, your office, actually.”

“Sit down, Jack,” Hank said, pressing the intercom button on his phone. “Walter? Bring us some coffee and get the briefing room set up as temporary headquarters for General O’Neill.” Hank looked at Jack, who had finally taken a seat in one of the chairs across from his desk. “Assign Lieutenant Loomis to act as his assistant and have Mitchell back up here in an hour.”

“I need to see her, Hank.”

Hank felt a surge of sympathy for O’Neill, he looked as if the weight of the entire world rested on his shoulders, and maybe it did. “I know, Jack,” he said quietly. “But let’s get our ducks in a row before we go barging down there. The local police currently have it under control, another hour or two isn’t going change anything.”

O’Neill sighed and Hank waited for him to protest, but he sat back in the chair, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Tell me what you know.”

Hank started talking, not stopping even when Walter quietly appeared, unobtrusively setting coffee mugs down in front of them and leaving a thermal carafe on the credenza. “At approximately 2200 last night, right before closing, a man matching Ba’al’s description entered the grocery store, taking Colonel Carter, four store employees and three customers hostage.”

“Do we know why?”

Hank shook his head. “No, he refuses to answer any questions regarding his motives or his demands.” Hank took a swallow of his coffee before continuing. “One of the employees was able call 911 from her cell phone before Ba’al was able to stop her, so that’s how they arrived on the scene. Their hostage negotiator was called in about midnight and after several hours of negotiations, Ba’al agreed to release all of the hostages, except for one.”

“So this hostage negotiator has actually talked to him?”

“No…apparently he’s refusing to talk to anyone and all communication was relayed by one of the hostages.” Hank looked at his notes. “The evening manager, Kimberly Watson. And there has been no communication since then.”

O’Neill looked at his watch and Hank knew what he was thinking, that was close to eight hours ago. “What are the police doing?”

“They have snipers set up around the building, but Ba’al’s been very careful to keep out of sight. The last time anyone had a good look at him was during the hostage release, when he was very careful to keep Colonel Carter between him and any window.”

“So…he’s waiting—for us?”

Hank shrugged, not at all surprised at O’Neill’s insight. “That’s my guess. He has to know that Colonel Carter will be identified as the remaining hostage and is waiting for us to make the next move.”

“Excuse me, sirs” Walter stood in the doorway to briefing room. “Everything’s ready.” Hank glanced through the window, phones and computers had been set up and he could see Loomis was already there and waiting.

“Thanks, Walter.” Hank turned back to O’Neill. “What do you want me to do?”

Jack stood, tugging his tie loose and unbuttoning the collar button his shirt. “You call the president while I call the chief of police.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mitchell reported to the briefing room as requested, though he was a little surprised at being summoned so soon, he’d only begun to track down the various contacts and sometime snitches they’d managed to cultivate who might have information about Ba’al and his clones. What also surprised Cam were the current occupants. At first the large room seemed filled with people and computers, but Cam soon sorted them out and while he wasn’t surprised to see Harriman scurrying about or Siler busy with equipment, he was puzzled by the presence of General O’Neill. 

No one paid any attention to him, so he casually made his way around the room, nodding at a lieutenant passing by him that he didn’t recognize, but whose name tag read ‘Loomis’, almost stepped on Siler who was half under the table and finally stopped Walter by the windows, when he came out of Landry’s office. “What’s he,” Cam whispered, jerking his head towards O’Neill, “doing here?”

“He’s coordinating the rescue effort for Colonel Carter.”

Cam frowned, it certainly wasn’t like O’Neill to micromanage. “When did this become an issue for Homeworld Security?” 

Walter’s grim expression lightened for a brief moment. “When General O’Neill’s wife was kidnapped.”

“General O’Neill’s wife?” Cam repeated stupidly while Walter grinned at him. “His wife?” Cam looked over at O’Neill who seemed absorbed in whatever Loomis was telling him and then back at Harriman. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He gave Walter a speculative look, fully cognizant that his forthcoming question was crass, considering the circumstances, but he had to know. “So,” he whispered, frantically trying to remember what date he’d picked in the Carter-O’Neill wedding pool, “who won the pool?”

Landry emerged from his office at that moment and with a quick glance over his shoulder, Walter shook his head and hurried off, so Cam took a seat at the briefing table. He sat down across from O’Neill, the older man’s normally amiable expression gone, his eyes hard and his mouth set in a tight line. Cam was worried and pissed as hell and Sam was just his friend and colleague, he couldn’t even begin to imagine what O’Neill was feeling. Crap, his wife was hostage of one of the more notorious Goa’uld—a Goa’uld with which the General had a complicated history, to put it mildly. 

“What have we got, Jack?”

O’Neill briefly acknowledged him before answering Landry. “The local PD will continue to keep the site secure and monitor any activity. They’ve got everything under control and I see no reason to replace them at this time.”

“Sir—” Cam protested. 

“Ahhahhh.” O’Neill held up his left hand and Cam did a quick scan for a wedding ring, not unduly surprised when he didn’t see one and he quickly tried to remember if he’d seen any rings on Sam’s left hand, coming up blank there as well. “Let me finish. We will take over negotiations and our people will take whatever action is deemed necessary.”

“So what are we going to do?” Cam asked, looking between the two generals.

“I’m going to make a phone call,” O’Neill replied.

It took him a moment, but he figured the General’s plan out. “What makes you think he’ll have her phone?” Mitchell asked, frowning at the stack of ‘Eyes Only’ folders that the returning Loomis had just dropped in the middle of the briefing room table.

“The police report says he negotiated the hostage release using the cell phone of that woman…”

“The evening manager,” Loomis supplied without even looking up from the computer monitor where he now sat.

“Yeah, he used her cell phone then. It seems reasonable that if he was waiting to hear from the SGC, he’d have Carter’s phone.”

“So you think he had this planned all along?” Cam wasn’t sure he bought that theory, but it made more sense than just some sort of freaky coincidence placing Sam and Ba’al together in a super market in Colorado Springs. Unfortunately, none of the latest intel and reports he’d managed to find about Ba’al, his clones and the Trust had yielded any useful information. 

“I guess we’ll find out.” O’Neill looked over to where Siler’s backside was just visible. “Are we ready?”

Siler backed out from under the table and took a seat, putting on a phone headset that was piggybacked onto the phone in front of O’Neill. “All set, sir.” 

Loomis swiveled his monitor toward the General. “We’ve managed to tap into the CCTV at the store.” 

Cam jumped out of his chair and went to stand behind O’Neill, Landry joining him. The monitor displayed a grainy black and white picture of the interior of the grocery store. If Cam looked hard enough, he could just make out the top of Sam’s head behind one of the far check out counters. He couldn’t see Ba’al anywhere…no, there was a shift in the grainy shadows and they watched as Ba’al approached Sam, a zat in his hand, and knelt down at her side, once more disappearing from sight. 

O’Neill was quiet as he stared at the monitor for a long moment and then he nodded, his expression still grim and picked up the receiver, punching the buttons on the phone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam shifted on the hard floor, the tie bands used to bind her hands up over her head dug into her wrists and she had been trying in vain to ease some of the pressure. He had her tied to one of the check-out counters, just barely visible she knew, to the various police units surrounding the building. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this uncomfortable, tired or thirsty—she could however remember the last time she’d been held hostage, something that seemed to happen all too frequently in her line of work. Of course, when she’d run out to the local King Sooper’s before closing to get milk for her morning cereal, she hadn’t expected to encounter a Goa’uld in the dairy aisle.

 

She had been unarmed of course, and when she’d come face to face with him, she had been so surprised that she figured even if she had possessed a weapon, he would still have gotten the upper hand. He had overpowered her before she truly realized what was happening and whatever action she might have taken was tempered by the presence of the seven scared civilians who had suddenly become pawns in Ba’al’s yet undeclared agenda. It concerned her that she hadn’t sensed his presence, the only reason she could think why she hadn’t sensed the symbiote was the same reason she had been caught by surprise, she normally didn’t worry about running across any Goa’uld in her own backyard. 

Sam looked over at him; he sat casually in a bright orange Bronco’s portable lawn chair borrowed from a football tailgate party display, a zat held loosely in one hand and a bottle of sparkling mineral water in the other. He’d been sitting there as if he hadn’t a care in the world ever since the other hostages had been released and had efficiently bound her to the checkout stand. And since she couldn’t see her watch, she had to guess at the time, but gauging by the bright sun and almost non-existent shadows of the police cars and the few heavily armed figures she glimpsed every now and then, she guessed it had to be close to noon. 

For someone who was normally boastful and loquacious, this Ba’al was surprisingly quiet and Sam wondered if she had stumbled across one of the clones, it would certainly explain…well, not a lot, but some of his actions. But it still left unanswered the big question of what he was doing in Colorado Springs and perhaps even more importantly, why he had taken her and the other hostages—generally a sign of desperation and not one she normally associated with a system lord. That he had later given up the others with only superficial protests had her wondering if her abduction had been his sole intent all along. If so, she thought wryly, he shouldn’t have picked such a public location, a tactic that didn’t mesh with Ba’al’s usual slick approach.

But underneath all her wild speculation was the increasing worry that no one at the SGC knew that she was being held hostage by Ba’al, literally in their own backyard. She’d caught a glimpse of a news truck when the others had been released, but she had no way of knowing whether they had gotten any footage of her—or Ba’al. Ever since her whole crazy captivity had started, she’d expected the guys to come bursting through the front of the store, weapons a-blazing; or barring any sort of direct confrontation, an energy beam to suddenly appear and engulf both her and Ba’al—depositing him behind bars at the SGC and her, safe and sound, in the briefing room. 

Sam liked those scenarios better than the more likely one, that Landry knew exactly where she was and what was happening but his hands were tied by some crazy jurisdictional battle over who had the ‘authority’ to handle the situation. And by the preponderance of Colorado Spring’s finest stationed in the parking lot, it looked like the local police currently had control of the situation. Sam thought of the plain gold band hanging on a gold chain, safely tucked away under her top and tugged once more at the bands binding her, even though it chafed on her already raw skin. She didn’t even know if Jack knew what had happened to her. 

“Hey,” she called over to her captor, “I need to go to the bathroom.” She didn’t really, he’d let her use the tiny, cramped bathroom in the employees lounge right after the others had left, but she was getting so stiff that she was worried that if the moment materialized when she could overpower him, she wouldn’t have the strength.

Ba’al didn’t say anything, his lips curving into an insolent smile. “Do you really require the facilities or is this merely a ruse to obtain your freedom?”

Sam shrugged, wincing when the motion pulled on her raw wrists, but she still managed an insincere smile. “I guess you’ll never know unless you untie me.”

Ba’al let out a bored sigh and stood up, tucking the bottle of mineral water in the chair’s built-in cup holder, acting for all the world like he was at some bizarre cook-out. He was even dressed for it, wearing jeans and a dark brown plaid flannel shirt over a brown turtleneck with heavy work boots; looking just like the locals, until he opened his mouth. Even when his voice didn’t carry the deep reverberation of the symbiote, he couldn’t hide his accent. He was careful, Sam noted, to never be in a direct line of sight. She couldn’t help but be impressed, because either he had planned the whole thing right down to the tiniest detail or he instinctively knew how to minimize his risk.

He knelt down next to her and she forced herself not to flinch. “Just don’t forget my dear,” he whispered, running the blunt tip of the zat along her throat, “while I prefer to keep you alive, it matters little to me whether you remain conscious or not.” With that said, he pulled a knife from a hidden sheath and sliced through her bindings, moving quickly away and keeping the zat trained on her.

Sam ignored him, concentrating on not crying out as her abused arms fell down at her sides. She flexed her fingers, the pins and needles almost excruciating as the blood rushed back to her hands. Carefully massaging her wrists, she wondered what the odds were that one of the snipers she knew had to be outside would be able to hit Ba’al if she could just somehow get him to expose himself. Slowly rising to her feet, she instinctively calculated the time and distance it would take to get to Ba’al and just as quickly discarded any idea of disarming him. He’d have her zatted into unconsciousness before she was halfway to him. No, her best bet would be somehow getting him to show himself to the waiting snipers.

“Come along now,” he admonished her. “Let’s not dilly-dally all day with this.”

“Just give me—” She stopped abruptly when the electronic notes of Stairway to Heaven started and she looked around wildly for her cell phone. 

“Ah,” Ba’al drawled, keeping the zat pointed at her while he reached into the breast pocket of his flannel shirt and pulled out her cell phone. Without even glancing at it, he tossed it to her. “Answer it.”

She wasn’t sure he hands would obey her yet, but she managed to catch the phone. The display read ‘unknown caller’ and her heart started pounding as she fumbled to open it, praying that it wouldn’t stop ringing before she answered. She finally got it up to ear. “Hello?”

“Sam?” 

Giddy relief filled her at the sound of his low voice, but she forced her voice to remain steady. “Yes, General. It’s good to hear from you.” She glanced quickly at Ba’al, not sure how much she should try to say; the look of bored amusement on his face not at all reassuring. “I was hoping you’d call.”

“We know what’s happened. Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes,” she reassured him, “I’m fine.”

“That’s enough,” Ba’al said, holding out his hand, his largesse apparently at an end.

“He wants to talk to you,” she told Jack, clutching the phone tighter as if that might bring him closer. 

“We’ll get you out of there, I promise.”

“I know,” she whispered. “Jack—” 

Ba’al snatched the phone out of her hand and just as swiftly backed away. “Ah, General O’Neill,” he drawled. “So good of you to call.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

O’Neill set the phone carefully back down in its cradle and sat back in his chair. It was only because he knew her so well that he could tell she was terrified and determined to not let him know it. And as for Ba’al, the slimy snakeheads demands were unexpected, to say the least.

“So what does the bastard want?” Landry rumbled.

“An airplane and a million dollars?” Cam drawled.

Jack smiled faintly at Mitchell’s glib question. “Just about.”

“What?” Landry demanded.

“Really?” Mitchell sat up a bit straighter, looking surprised.

“He wants a Tel’tac and safe passage from Earth.” 

Landry snorted. “And that’s all?”

“Evidently this…” Jack grimaced; one Ba’al had been bad enough as far as he was concerned. The entire concept of numerous Ba’al’s gave him a serious case of the heebie jeebies. “…Ba’al is one of the clones and big surprise, he’s gotten tired of taking orders from the real Ba’al and wants to leave Earth.” Jack shrugged. “Yeah, go figure. He wants to strike out on his own, set up his own little empire I guess.”

“And he’ll let Colonel Carter go free?”

“So he says,” Jack replied. “But then I never have and never will—”

“Trust a Goa’uld,” Mitchell finished for him.

Jack knew there was a reason he liked Mitchell. “Right. We know we can’t trust him, so who knows what he really wants? But our best chance of capturing him and minimizing the collateral damage is to agree with his plan and then take him out during the transfer.”

“Or we could just let him go.”

“Excuse me?” Jack said, not quite sure he’d heard the younger man correctly. He glanced over at Hank, who looked unexpectedly thoughtful.

Cam shrugged and looked like he regretted opening his mouth. “Well, with the current state of the universe, one cloned System Lord—minus his system and his Jaffa—isn’t going to pose much of a threat to anyone.”

“He’s got a point, Jack,” Landry commented. “But even if we uphold our end of the bargain, it doesn’t guarantee that he won’t harm Colonel Carter or release her.”

“Unless we offer him a substitute.” Jack said it slowly, the part of him that still had nightmares about his imprisonment and torture at Ba’al’s hands cowered in terror at what he currently contemplated; but the part of him that loved Samantha Carter more than life itself had no doubts. 

“Are you out of your mind?” Landry demanded. 

“I’ll go,” Mitchell immediately volunteered.

Siler didn’t looked surprised and Loomis’ astonished face appeared briefly over his monitor before he disappeared again; Jack almost felt sorry for the young man, caught in the cross fire of what had the potential to be a hell of a fight. He wasn’t surprised by the immediate response of Mitchell or Landry, but he wasn’t worried. He outranked Mitchell and while he didn’t relish pulling rank on Landry in his own command, it wouldn’t stop him from putting his plan into action. 

“General’s are a dime a dozen,” he commented absently, his eyes drawn back to the CCTV feed from the market. Loomis, or maybe Siler, had worked some kind of magic between the computer and the cameras at the store and the monitor now showed a split screen, giving them partial views of both Sam and Ba’al. The Goa’uld looked smug; Sam looked determined and Jack knew without a doubt that he’d have more trouble from Sam than he ever would from Ba’al once she learned of their scheme. But if all went according to his rather vague plan, it wouldn’t matter how pissed she was at him as long as she was safe. 

“Now Carter…there’s only one of her.”

“Jack?” Landry stood, a determined look on his face. “May I have a word in private?” Siler and Loomis continued to look busy behind their respective computer monitors and Mitchell had a twitchy look that Jack recognized as the inevitable byproduct of inaction, but he couldn’t worry about that right now. 

Resigned to the coming confrontation, Jack slowly stood and followed Hank into the office that had been his for a short time, closing the door behind him. “Now Hank—”

“Dammit, Jack,” Hank turned on him, “you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into!”

“Oh believe me, I am probably in the best position to know exactly what I’m getting myself into.” Feeling suddenly weary, Jack sat down in one of the leather arm chairs facing the desk, waiting until Hank sat down. “Don’t fight me on this, Hank. You won’t win.”

“You’re not thinking clearly,” Hank continued. “You’re letting your personal feelings cloud your judgment.”

“Perhaps.” Jack wouldn’t deny it; he’d long ago made peace with the realization that he’d do whatever it took—up to and including sacrificing his life—to save Sam. “And maybe it won’t come to that. I don’t plan on ending up his captive, but I also won’t put one of our greatest…” He winced slightly, she’d so kill him if she ever heard about this, “…assets on the line here.” Leaning forward then, Jack gazed intently at the still skeptical looking Landry. “I have a plan.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That’s it?” she said, not bothering to hide her disbelief. She gestured around the empty store while he motioned with the zat for her to move. “You took me hostage in a grocery store just so you could escape from Earth?”

“Well, it seemed a bit easier than infiltrating the SGC. That will do,” he said. Sam stopped by the same checkout counter where she’d been before Jack had called and sighed softly before sitting down and holding her hands out toward him. He squatted down next to her and rubbed his thumb lightly over one of the abrasions left on her wrist from the tie band. “I am sorry this is necessary,” he murmured, but still went ahead and firmly tightened a new one around her wrists. “But you should be home free by this evening,” he said cheerfully. 

“Do you really think they’ll just turn over a space ship to you?”

“I believe that your General O’Neill will do whatever it takes to get you back.”

Sam remained silent after that comment, not willing to give him any more ammunition, because she very much feared he was right. Even though she was expecting it, she still gasped with pain when he smiled wryly at her and tugged her arms up over her head, once more fastening the tie band to the counter. He didn’t say anything further, just carefully made his way back to his lawn chair and sat down, a pleased smile on his handsome face. 

Closing her eyes, Sam let her head rest back against the hard steel of the counter. The whole situation had started to take on a surreal quality and she could just see the headlines in the tabloids. _Cloned alien takes Air Force colonel hostage in Colorado Springs super market. “All I want is to phone home,” claims the misunderstood demigod._

Sam knew the official policy was that they didn’t negotiate with terrorists and she wondered how what was rapidly turning into a run of the mill kidnapping fit into that scenario. She had no doubt that Jack, probably with the reluctant help of Landry, would devise a way to free her, foil Ba’al—she opened her eyes and took a cautious glance around the end of the counter, somewhat reassured by the continued presence of the Colorado Springs police—and not endanger any civilians.

It scared her that Jack might risk his career—and his life—to ensure her freedom. It also gave her an incredibly warm feeling that snuggled right up to her fear that he would do that for her. She knew her husband well, part of having worked side by side with him for over eight years, and it didn’t take too much of a stretch of the imagination to figure that this fell under his broad definition of ‘never leave anyone behind’. She just hoped that Landry, the Joint Chiefs and the President understood that.

Relaxing as much as she could on the hard and cold floor, she closed her eyes again and rested her head against one of her upraised arms. It had been a long, sleepless night on top of a long, stressful day. And while she didn’t think she would sleep, it was better than staring at Ba’al’s mocking face while they waited for whatever deal Jack had to work to meet his demands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam was at a Led Zeppelin concert with Jack, the auditorium hazy with sweet-smelling smoke and the flickering flames of thousands of lighters held in the air while Roger Plant strutted across the stage, the familiar opening notes of Stairway to Heaven sending the crowd into one massive paroxysm of ecstasy. She swayed to the music, her arms held over her head when…crap…Sam jerked awake, crying out softly when a sharp pain tore through her wrists. Her phone was ringing and she blinked, forcing the last remnants of her dream away and focusing on Ba’al.

“Ah, General. You’ve made the required arrangements?” Sam held her breath and tensely waited. “Excellent!” The look of immense satisfaction on Ba’al’s face told Sam everything she needed to know. Somehow Jack had either pulled off the impossible or he had the mother of all plans. 

“Now, you’re not going to try and double-cross me, are you General?” Ba’al looked directly at her then, his eyes hard. “Because I’d like to think that after all we’ve shared, you’d know that I’m a man of my word and if this doesn’t go exactly to my satisfaction, I will kill your wife.”

Sam refused to react to his provocative statement, but his sources were obviously good, as their marriage certainly wasn’t common knowledge. It might have been selfish, or maybe just a form of self-preservation, but after years of feeling like every move she made was under scrutiny, this was part of her life that she wanted to keep private and Jack hadn’t objected. Of course, she’d take out an ad announcing their marriage in the Colorado Springs Gazette and the Washington Post if it meant an end to this whole bizarre kidnapping ordeal.

“Don’t keep us waiting too long, General.” Ba’al flipped her phone shut and shoved it back in his shirt pocket. “We won’t have long to wait now, my dear. Your general has come to heel like the well-trained dog that he is.”

“You won’t get away with this,” she said. She didn’t know what Jack had planned, but she knew with a bone-deep certainty that he wouldn’t let Ba’al go just to free her. 

“It would be in your best interest to humor your captor,” he drawled, the sudden hard look in his eyes reminding her that even if he was a clone, he still possessed all the arrogance and malevolence of the real Ba’al. “Your life depends on my safe departure from this god-forsaken planet, so you had better pray to your God,” he sneered, “that I ‘get away with this’.” 

Sam fell silent then, there really wasn’t much else to say and she didn’t feel like baiting him. That had always been Jack’s job anyway. Sam sighed and shifted as much as her bonds would allow her, ignoring Ba’al and staring at the display of potato chips across the aisle from where she sat. But she soon closed her eyes, the food only reminding her that she hadn’t had anything to eat since dinner the night before. 

She might have dozed off again, she wasn’t sure though, because she didn’t jump when her phone finally rang. Her eyes flew open and Ba’al already had the phone up to his ear. She watched him, his face giving nothing away until he said, “We’ll be there,” and snapped the phone shut.

“It’s time.” He strode over to her and after one swift tug with his knife, she cautiously lowered her arms. Her relief was relatively short-lived when he grabbed her elbow and jerked her to her feet. “Our ride is here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cam stood at parade rest next to the idling Hummer. Behind the lenses of his mirrored sunglasses he checked out the deserted back lot of the super market. He couldn’t see them, but he knew that at least two snipers and a dozen other various law enforcement and Air Force personnel were within spitting distance of his location on the loading dock. He should have found that comforting, but didn’t. What he would have found comforting was a gun of his own, but O’Neill had vetoed that, so he had to be content with being outfitted with a wire and the vague hope that if Ba’al zatted him, it would only be once.

 _“Any signs of activity?”_ O’Neill’s voice was a low rumble in his ear.

“Not yet, sir,” he murmured. “Wait—door’s opening.” On the alert now, Cam stood straighter and watched as the loading dock door slowly swung open. He saw Sam first, her hands bound in front of her with Ba’al right behind her, one arm firmly around her neck holding her against his chest and the other pointing his zat right at Cam. He couldn’t tell if Sam looked relieved to see him or if she was pissed because he wasn’t O’Neill. Whatever she felt though, she kept her expression blank.

Ba’al looked around, either assessing the area or because he expected to see someone else. “Who are you?” he finally asked.

Cam took off his sunglasses. “I’m your driver.” 

“I’m disappointed. I expected to see General O’Neill.” 

“Well, you know generals…always giving orders so they don’t have to get their hands dirty.”

“I don’t know…” Ba’al let his voice trail off, waving the zat idly.

O’Neill’s voice sounded in his ear. _“Tell him I’ll be at the transfer point.”_

“O’Neill will be at the transfer point,” Cam offered. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Ba’al’s frown was replaced by a sardonic smile. “You must be more competent than you look, if O’Neill has entrusted his wife’s safety to you.”

Cam shrugged, striving for casual. They had discussed this very possibility, with no real solution except to hope that Ba’al’s desire to leave Earth would override any additional plans he may have contemplated. “I couldn’t speak to that, sir. I’m just in charge of the transportation.” He waited, not saying anything more and apparently Ba’al was satisfied because with a nudge of the zat in Sam’s ribs, they started down the steps from the dock. 

“Open the door,” Ba’al directed once they reached the bottom step. Mitchell did as he was told, opening the passenger door; stepping back with his hands in the air. He shook his head slightly when Sam gave him a questioning look before Ba’al shoved her in the backseat. “Turn around, hands on the roof,” Ba’al instructed. Cam once again did as ordered.

“I’m clean,” he said, when Ba’al started a one-handed pat-down, keeping the zat pressed firmly into the small of his back. 

“You’ll excuse me if I check for myself?”

 _“Easy.”_ O’Neill’s voice whispered in his ear and Cam bit back the smart comment he’d been about to make. 

“Satisfied?” he asked, when Ba’al finally finished.

“Drive.” Ba’al commanded, jerking him around by his collar.

“Yes, sir,” he said as Ba’al disappeared into the backseat of the Hummer. Cam slipped his sunglasses on and walked around the rear of the vehicle to the driver’s side. “Whatever you say, sir.”

The local PD had been true to their word and his pre-determined route to a small airfield on the outskirts of town was clear. The gate was open, the place apparently deserted and he pulled the Hummer around to the last hanger, where the sweetest little ultralite jet he’d ever seen sat, fueled up and ready to go. Cam turned off the ignition and looked into the rear view mirror, meeting Ba’al’s eyes. “We’re here.”

“Where is the Tel’tac? All I see is a plane,” he sneered.

“Well see, here’s the problem,” Cam explained, mentally crossing his fingers that Ba’al bought the rather flimsy excuse he was about to get. “The only Tel’tac currently in our possession doesn’t have cloaking technology. So…I have to take you to a secure location where you can take-off without arousing any undue curiosity or speculation.”

Cam’s eyes flicked to Sam and she gave him her patented ‘are you out of your mind look?’, to which he gave a barely perceptible shrug. He looked back at Ba’al, whose expression was anything but pleased and Cam plastered on his most sincere smile. 

“I imagine O’Neill will also be with the Tel’tac?” 

Cam nodded, still smiling for all his worth.

“Very well,” the Goa’uld finally growled.

“Yes, sir!” Cam responded, shutting off the ignition. Cam didn’t know whether Ba’al relented because of his winning smile or if the Goa’uld realized that he really had no other choice at the moment; and while they wouldn’t be home free until Ba’al and Sam were safely on board the jet, the whole situation was certainly looking better.

“Wait,” Ba’al snapped. 

Cam stopped, his hand on the door handle. “Whatever you say.”

“Ladies first,” he drawled, reaching across Sam and opening the door. “After you.”

Cam waited until Sam and Ba’al were both out of the Hummer; Ba’al posed the two of them in front of the Hummer, his left arm loosely around her and the zat once more pointed at her temple. Carefully exiting the vehicle, Cam confidently crossed the tarmac to the waiting plane.

“Wait,” Ba’al called when he got to the door. “Just remember, if there is anything that is not to my liking, I will kill her.”

“I believe you’ve made that perfectly clear.” Cam tugged on the door and pulled the stairs into place, then turned and gestured to his two passengers with an exaggerated sweep of his arm. “All aboard!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack O’Neill paced; even after a year as head of the SGC and six months in DC, he still wasn’t used to the inactivity of waiting, especially when everyone else was busy except for him They were currently set-up in a hurriedly emptied storage room just off the large, open hanger where what was soon to become Ba’al’s Tel’tac was housed. Jack didn’t mind the rather utilitarian room, mostly because of the bank of windows that looked out into the hanger, where he could see at least a dozen engineers, mechanics and other tech types busy at work on the ‘modifications’ he’d requested. 

Turning away from the window, he strode back over to where Siler and Loomis sat—he’d commandeered them from the SGC—and he stopped behind Siler, who spoke before he could even open his mouth. 

“Nothing yet, sir.” 

Jack glared at the back of the sergeant’s head. “Thank you,” he grumbled.

“Anytime, sir.” 

Loomis looked up from his monitor. “They’ve run into some strong headwinds, sir. I estimate it’s going to push back their ETA by at least thirty minutes.”

“Right,” Jack murmured. He and Mitchell had deliberately chosen the smaller jet to transport Ba’al and Sam so that they could maximize their travel time, which also meant traveling at a lower altitude where the plane would be affected more by the prevailing winds. O’Neill and his purloined entourage had traveled by a much larger and faster Air Force jet, arriving at Nellis and subsequently to Area 51 a good hour before Mitchell was due to land—an arrival which had now been pushed back by half an hour.

Shit…thirty more minutes before he would see her. The brief view he’d had of Sam at the back of the grocery store hadn’t been near enough to satisfy him that she was really okay. Dammit, he shouldn’t have let Mitchell and Landry gang up on him regarding the transfer—or switching places with Sam. It was only when Mitchell had pointed out that Ba’al had probably counted on his participation and they’d be more likely to gain his cooperation in their slight change of plans if O’Neill wasn’t there. And damn, if the kid hadn’t been right. Jack supposed he should be thankful that the one thing a Goa’uld could be counted on to do was to look out for his own ass, or he wondered wryly, was it asses?

“General? Major Friedman, lead engineer of the hurriedly assembled team, stood in the doorway, the various noises from the work crew spilling into the quiet office. “We’ve finished with all the modifications and we’re just about to move her out, so it’s now or never.”

Jack nodded. “I’ll be right back,” he told Siler and Loomis, following Friedman out into the hanger to add the finishing touch to the ship.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam shifted on the cushiony leather seat, craning her neck to look out the small window. The subtle change in the planes altitude told her that they had started their descent, the glimpse of Lake Meade in the distance providing confirmation. Sitting back, she glanced toward the cockpit, she only had partial views of Cam and Ba’al; she could hear the low murmur of Cam’s voice as he talked—presumably on the radio—since the entire trip had been made in almost complete silence.

As much as she wanted this whole ordeal to be over, she was not looking forward to whatever was going to happen once they landed. She’d had way too much time on the flight to devise any number of possible scenarios for her release and, hopefully, Ba’al’s capture. But she also knew her husband’s preferred approach to these kinds of situations involved lots of explosives. And as relieved as she’d been that Mitchell had been sent to handle their transfer instead of Jack, she knew that he tended to prefer explosives too.

She sighed and settled back into the soft leather, ignoring the twinges in her still-bound wrists. While the plush seats on the jet were infinitely more comfortable than the hard floor of the grocery store, she was still a prisoner. Sam figured that Jack would be at the transfer point, using the advantage of their longer flight to get there before them. And after they landed, well, she guessed she’d just have to follow his lead and be ready for whatever went down.

The sun was low in the horizon when they flew over Vegas, the first bright lights of the city just beginning to twinkle in the dusk and then disappearing just as quickly once they were back over desert; the rocky and desolate landscape thrown into stark relief by the fading sunlight. They bypassed Nellis where fresh contrails told her they weren’t alone in the sky and which meant there was only one other place they could land, the remote and isolated airfield adjacent to Area 51. 

Cam’s face appeared briefly in the open cockpit door. “Seat belt fastened, Sam?”

She didn’t even bother to comment, raising her bound hands and revealing the seat belt still snugly fastened around her.

His grin faded and a serious look that she normally didn’t associate with him filled his face. “It won’t be long now.”

Sam nodded, desperately trying to glean any kind of clue from his expression, but she heard the radio crackle and he disappeared. With nothing else to do, she looked out the window; the plane banked slowly to the left and the runway lights slowly came into view, twinkling blue against the concrete and red dirt. She studied the layout of the area, noting the only signs of life were at the far end where several vehicles sat and light gleamed from an open hanger door.

The ground raced up to meet them, the wheels settling smoothly on the runway, the small jet rolling to a stop not too far from the hanger she’d spotted earlier. She stayed seated when Ba’al and Cam crowded into the front of the cabin; Ba’al kept the zat pressed into Cam’s back and she waited quietly while he opened the door, the steps dropping neatly into place. It occurred to her that now would be the perfect opportunity to overpower Ba’al, the cramped quarters of the plane would work in their favor; even with her bound hands, she had no doubt that she and Cam could easily overpower Ba’al before he could get off an accurate shot with his zat. She quietly released her seat belt just in case. 

But Cam merely smiled genially and obediently stepped back out of the way when Ba’al poked him in the ribs with the zat. Before she could prepare herself, Ba’al grabbed her wrists, and she barely managed to stifle her soft cry when he hauled her to her feet. “Let’s see if your dear husband is to be trusted, shall we?” He gestured at Cam then. “After you.”

“You’re the boss,” Cam replied lightly, and he stood briefly silhouetted in the open hatch, before ducking his head and disappearing from her view. Ba’al shoved her towards the open door and she almost lost her balance, barely catching herself before she too, stood in the doorway. The setting sun shone in her eyes, momentarily blinding her, and she held her bound arms up to her face, squinting into the light.

Once her eyes adjusted, it didn’t take long for her to find Jack, standing by himself, less than fifty yards from the plane; behind him, the last rays of the sun glinting dimly off the burnished metal, sat a slightly worse for the wear Tel’tac. Jack’s hair gleamed like silver in the fading light, the black BDUs he wore gave him a dangerous look that matched the hard set to his face. It had been a long time since she’d seen that particular look on his face and she almost felt sorry for Ba’al. Her sympathy quickly faded though, when Ba’al poked her in the back with the zat. 

“We mustn’t keep your General waiting,” he murmured in her ear, his hot breath feathering obscenely across her cheek.

Sam could feel him pressed up against her back and it took all her self-control to slowly walk down the stairs, keeping her hands up; keenly aware of the zat pressed into the side and the certainty that even if Jack looked like he was alone, he wasn’t. There were probably at least a dozen guns currently trained on her and Ba’al as they left the relative safety of the plane. By the time they reached the tarmac, Cam was already standing next to Jack. Sam kept her eyes on Jack, waiting to take her cues from him.

“I have upheld my end of our bargain, O’Neill,” Ba’al called, keeping an arm firmly wrapped around her and the zat easily visible. 

“As have I,” Jack answered. “One Tel’tac, ready to go.”

“This is what you expect to trade for your wife’s release?” Ba’al sneered.

Jack shrugged, glancing briefly over his shoulder before replying, his voice casual. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but it will get you to the closest planet with a Stargate.”

Ba’al didn’t say anything and Sam waited tensely. As relieved as she was that her kidnapping was almost over—she knew it would end here, one way or the other—she still couldn’t figure out what Jack had in mind. Cam looked calm and relaxed, and if she didn’t know her husband so well, she’d almost believe the bored look he had on his face. The arm around her waist tightened and when he gave her a small push, she started walking toward the Tel’tac.

Jack and Cam stepped to the side as she and Ba’al approached and she snuck a quick look at her husband’s face, but it was an unreadable mask. Behind her Sam heard the engines of their small jet start up and realized they were moving the plane out of the way. As incomprehensible as it seemed to her, it looked more and more like Jack really intended to let Ba’al take the Tel’tac and leave Earth. She could sense the two men following behind them and she tried to slow down her steps, but Ba’al merely pushed her along.

“You don’t really think they’re going to just let you fly out of here, do you?”

“I think that is exactly what is going to happen.”

His voice was smooth and typically arrogant; Sam was sure he had no doubt that he was going to do exactly that. It didn’t take long to reach the Tel’tac and once there, Ba’al stopped at the door. He still held her like a shield in front of him and she flinched slightly when he ran the zat lightly along her jaw in a bizarre caress.

“I hope she is worth it,” he drawled.

Sam saw Jack’s hands tighten into fists before he relaxed them. ‘You have your ship, let her go.”

“Very well.” 

Ba’al shoved her hard, putting his considerable strength into it and she was caught by surprise, literally flying through to air and landing on top of Jack and Mitchell in a tangle of arms and legs. She quickly struggled to her knees and felt someone’s arms close around her and, thank goodness, the familiar scent and feel of her husband. Relief flowed through her and she pressed herself against him, burying her face in his neck. He held her tightly, his warm breath wafting across her skin when he nuzzled her neck. 

The ground started to vibrate and the Tel’tac’s engines roared to life. Jack’s arms loosened around her and they both looked up. Mitchell was already standing and Jack rose, helping her to her feet; the three of them quickly ducking when the Tel’tac suddenly zoomed over their heads and into the sky.

Sam looked around, expecting to see a squadron of fighters or F-303’s or even a missile take off after the Tel’tac, but nothing happened. The exterior lights of the ship faded into the night sky and the ship disappeared into the stars.

Stunned, she turned to Jack, who had a pleased look on his face. “I can’t believe it! You let him get away!”

Jack shrugged, pulling a pocket knife out of his BDUs and slicing through the tie bands that still bound her wrists. ‘That Tel’tac was designated to be stripped for spare parts, it won’t be too big a loss.”

“Yeah,” Cam added, a huge grin on his face. “We’re also minus one less Ba’al.”

Sam glared at both Jack and Cam, lightly rubbing her aching wrists and resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the two of them. “You let him go!”

“He won’t get too far,” Jack replied calmly, which only infuriated her more. “Well, technically I guess he will get far.”

Cam snorted and that self-satisfied look appeared on Jack’s face again. 

“Jack O’Neill,” she demanded, “just what did you do?”

“Let’s just say we made a few modifications that will keep Ba’al occupied for a very long time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ba’al felt powerful and he felt in control—for perhaps the first time in his short existence. The Tel’tac’s controls responded beautifully—if a bit sluggishly—and he was finally free of that wretched planet. Pulling up a series of stellar maps, he studied them carefully. While he could think of several likely planets where he could find a Stargate, it would no doubt pay to exercise some discretion until he had ascertained the current state of the universe.

After several minutes of thought and study of the star charts, he decided on a planet on the outer edges of his sphere of influence, which while isolated, was inhabited by people unswervingly loyal to him. The planet was also close enough that he shouldn’t have to tax the ship’s hyperdrive too hard to reach it. With the decision made, Ba’al set the controls, sat back and pressed the button that would engage the hyperdrive.

The ship shuddered violently and he grabbed the armrests on the command chair, immediately scanning the flashing displays on the console for the source of the problem when a deep voice came over the communication system.

_“Shol’vah! To all those who would turn against their god, know this! For your insolence, you will die in the cold of space. What is rightfully mine will return to me!”_

Ba’al growled with rage and began pressing buttons and turning dials, but nothing responded, when Apophis’ voice stopped and Jack O’Neill’s image flickered into life on one of the small screens on the ship’s console. 

“I hope you approve of the modifications I had made to the Tel’tac. And I wouldn’t advise trying to find and disengage the recall device, unless you want your journey to Apophis’ home world to end right now.”

The image flickered for a moment and Ba’al’s mind raced, searching for options.

“Oh, and if you’re thinking about using the escape pods, don’t. I had those removed. Along with these.” O’Neill held up several brightly colored crystals. “The ring transporter is also useless and I had the hanger bay doors welded shut.” O’Neill smiled. “Give my best to old Apophis when you see him.” 

Ba’al punched his fist through the smiling image of O’Neill, barely registering the pain from the impact and the shards of glass and plastic cutting into his skin; his frustrated cry echoing through the empty Tel’tac.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack lifted the armrest and put his arm around Sam, pulling her close. “Jack,” she protested, “I smell awful. I’ve been wearing the same clothes for over twenty-four hours!”

He took a sniff of her hair, but all he could smell was the faint hint of her shampoo and sweat. “You don’t smell any worse than you do after any long mission.”

She snorted, but settled down, nestling into his side, her head resting on his shoulder and her hand warm on his thigh. This was the first time they’d actually been alone since Ba’al had released her and taken off in his booby-trapped Tel’tac. The paramedics had been called in to check her over and bandage her wrists—which fortunately were mostly abraded and bruised—while he’d called Landry and verified through NORAD that Ba’al had indeed left Earth’s orbit and not made a U-turn, given that the recall device would presumably activate once he’d left Earth’s atmosphere. 

A slightly stale vending machine sandwich and some fruit had been found to satisfy her hunger, and eaten only after he’d promised to take her to their favorite restaurant once they were back in the Springs, which was were they were currently heading in the ultralite. It needed to be returned and Mitchell had been salivating at the prospect of flying it again. It actually hadn’t been too hard to persuade her, once he’d pointed out the three hours they’d have alone before they arrived back at the SGC.

Of course, with Mitchell in the cockpit and behind the discreetly closed door, Jack didn’t think she’d let him do too much. But he didn’t mind, he was just thankful to have her back in his arms, safe and sound.

“I still can’t believe they agreed to your plan.”

Jack smiled faintly over her head. He knew who she meant by ‘they’, but chose to ignore it. “I am head of Homeworld Security,” he reminded her. “Besides, once I reminded them that one of our national treasures was in danger….” She thumped his thigh with her fist and he gently grasped her hand, being careful of her bandaged wrist, lifting it to his lips for a brief kiss. ‘It’s true,” he added mildly.

“I doubt that…but still,’ she twisted her head and look at him. “It’s not like he was the real Ba’al.”

“True,” he admitted. “However, I don’t think whether he was the original Ba’al or not really matters. He’s still a Goa’uld and he is—or was—a threat to Earth.” She continued to gaze at him with those beautiful blue eyes full of love and he had no doubt that he had done the right thing. “Besides,” he said his voice unexpectedly rough, “I couldn’t bear to lose you, not after we’re finally together.”

Those blue eyes softened and she pressed a tender kiss to his cheek. Jack shifted, pulling her into his lap and capturing her lips in a deep kiss. Her arms worked their way around his neck and she responded fully, melting against him. He groaned softly; he didn’t want to stop but he also didn’t want to get in any deeper with Mitchell only a few yards away.

Dragging his mouth from hers, he rested his forehead against hers. “We better stop,” he murmured.

She sighed and turned her head, looking toward the closed cockpit door. “I suppose you’re right,” she agreed. “But I’m not moving,” she announced, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder and nestling deeper into his embrace. He so didn’t mind, pulling her close and wallowing in the feeling of contentment that filled him.

“So,” she said eventually, looking up at him, her eyes sparkling, “everyone knows?” 

Jack frowned slightly, not sure what she meant.

“That we’re married!”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes,” she teased, “that.”

“Well…yeah, pretty much I guess. Except for Daniel and Teal’c.”

“They’ll be pissed you know, especially Daniel.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Jack drawled, grinning. “Before we left I heard that he won the wedding pool.”

The End


End file.
